A Little Piece of Heaven
by Macbeth Mouse
Summary: It's World War II. In the middle of the night, two souls meet and leave the impression of a lifetime.


Ironically, they met at the bar, even though Malik was Muslim and couldn't drink.

It had been Altaïr's last night on shore leave, and though he was more than happy to fight for his country, leaving allied land for what could be the last time left him more than a bit nostalgic. Thoughts raced through his head, mostly of his wife Maria who had been killed during the blitz, and how he would soon be going to join her, if all went wrong. And if things went right, he would be returning to his two children that were currently living in the countryside with strangers.

If he died tomorrow, or the next day, it did not matter; he would have faught for freedom from the German regime, and that alone would be enough for him.

Sipping the last of his third gin of the night, Altaïr was surprised when a young Palestinian man swayed into the seat next to his. It was obvious the boy, who could hardly be more than 16, was drunk off his ass. It was confirmed to Altaïr when the boy leaned in close, and he could smell straight whiskey on his breath.

"Hey you," the boy whispered roughly, leaning forward as much as possible so as to keep his balance. "See that man over there?" Altaïr spared a quick glance back and nodded. There was a man sitting in the corner, drinking only what appeared to be water.

"That's my brother. He won't drink, but I need him to lighten up a bit. See, today's our last day on land before we're off to fight in the Pacific. You look like a drinking kind of man; care to help me by buying him something?"

He wasn't sure whether or not to be offended by that, but the alcohol had indeed messed up his head for the night, and Altaïr found himself agreeing to the help the boy. Indeed, the boy was happy when he told him this.

"Great!" he exclaimed, then silently scolded himself for saying it so loudly. "First off, my name is Kadar, and his name is Malik." Altaïr nodded once more before stating his own name. "Okay, Altaïr. I want you to go sit over there and try to coax him into a drink. I'll be around momentartily to help." Kadar stood up and began to walk toward the door, before turning back to say something else. "Oh, and Altaïr? Be creative."

With that, Kadar was gone, leaving Altaïr to wonder what the hell he had just gotten himself into.

* * *

Altaïr sat down ungracefully by the man named Malik. He didn't announce himself or anything, just sat there, expecting something to happen. Something did.

Malik looked at him with the oddest of glares, but one definitely hate. He all but snarled, "Who are you?"

Altaïr almost laughed. Almost. It would have been the first time he had laughed in years. "Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad. And you are Malik." Malik's eyes widened, wondering how the other man knew. "Kadar," Altaïr quickly said, attempting to get rid of the uncomfortable feeling in his chest. Malik nodded, then went back to nursing his precious water.

It would have been right for Altaïr to leave right then and there, to just forget about Malik and Kadar, and walk away. But some part of him nagged at him to stay. He was in almost the same situtation as Malik right now, and he definitely knew how hard it was.

"Listen," he began, trying but failing to sound comforting. "I know that you're leaving tomorrow, but don't make your last night hell for yourself. Just have one drink."

"I'm Muslim."

Oh. Well, there went that idea. "You're brother failed to mention that."

"He tends to do that when he's been living in sin," Malik said, refering to his brother drinking. It was said with a small smile, which made Altaïr believe that Malik really did love his brother, even if he hated what he did sometimes. It must have been nice to have someone that close to.

Altaïr had never known his family, never had any real friends. Even his marriage to Maria was one of convinence rather than love. He had no idea what it felt like to have someone care for you, honestly and truely. Suddenly, he was a bit jealous of what Malik and Kadar had.

"So you won't drink. Doesn't hinder the fact that you need to loosen up. How will you remember what you're fighting for if you can't even have a good time now?"

Malik looked at him with honest eyes this time, if only for a moment. He recongnised the truth in Altaïr's words, even if he didn't want to admit it.

Grasping Malik on the shoulder, Altaïr stood. "Come. I'll show you the best night you can have."

* * *

They went dancing on the town, and to the cinema. Everywhere from the park downtown to the rich districts in the hills. Altaïr took Malik everywhere he knew, all the special places that he enjoyed. He showed him everything that made him happy about the town and happily shared them with the other man.

It wasn't long before Malik was _laughing_ and actually having fun. Running around wouldn't normally be as much enjoyment, but that night, it felt like the best thing in the world.

They retired to Altaïr's small flat when the sun began to shine. Neither of them had to show up for duty until later that day, so the two of them crashed in a mixed fit of giggling and crying.

Altaïr reached up to dry the tears from Malik's eyes, but instead found himself with an armful of the other man. He was sobbing dryly, and making the most horrible noises. This went on for a good ten minutes, and all he could do was rock the man back and forth slowly and rub his back.

"Altaïr," Malik said softly. "I'm so scared." He choked, and it seemed as if another sobbing fit was coming to him. However, the man just brushed it off and continued his laboured breathing. "Kadar... he might die. _I_ might die. I... I don't know how I can handle it."

Altaïr nodded into Malik's shoulder, holding him tightly as if he would never let Malik go. "I know. I know. I'm scared too." It was something amazing that he admitted what he was feeling. The two of them had grown quite close in their bonding, and for once, Altaïr actually trusted someone. Maybe _this_ was love.

When Malik kissed him, Altaïr wasn't at all surpirsed. He didn't think that Malik was going to be the one to start it, though. It started with soft pecks, and just breathing into one another. That quickly turned into desperate gasps of air and long moments of their tongues tangled together.

Somehow, they found the bed. It wasn't the most comfortable of things, but it would have to do. Their clothes were long lost in the process of getting to the bed, but neither of them seemed to notice. Then they were laying there, just the two of them. Malik clawed hard at his back while Altaïr entered him and didn't lessen his grip as the other man continued thrusting.

Malik screamed and collapsed with Altaïr following soon after. Malik was sobbing again, but this time, Altaïr was, too.

By noon, the two had bid farewell and promised, no, begged to meet eachother when they came back.


End file.
